A single thought
by Kakanma
Summary: A strange little idea that wormed its way into my head that I simply had to write. A lady in black 'plays' with her 'pet project'.


Warrior Fragment #1  
By: Kakanma Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon and I never will, so please don't sue.  
  
(Clack)  
(Clack)  
(Clack)  
  
The sound of her high heels striking the hard marble floor echoed through out the near empty chamber, almost in synch with the short, pain filled gasps coming from the single fixture in the now empty auditorium. She looked young, has if she was in her early teens, but possessed a cold beauty, like she was a statue cast of silver and onyx. She wore a pure black robe with silver stitching, it almost looked like she had taken the night sky, complete with stars, and wrapped it around her being. Yet it was her face that was her most striking feature, soft and pale, near albino, skin was framed by black hair, but it was her eyes that stood out. They were a deep, nearly unearthly, violet shade, and carried the promise of pain so unimaginable that one would be screaming for death to take them at the halfway point. She wore a cruel smirk on her face, a look that had sent lesser beings running for their lives, but there would be no running for her current victim. It is hard to run when one is literally being strung up by their entrails. She looked over her 'pet project' with a sense of fiendish pride, the only one she had ever truly respected, ever looked up to, was completely at her mercy, not that she would show any.  
  
"Well 'Mother', are you comfortable? I would surely hope not, for your agony has only just begun."  
  
"W.Why? Why are you doing this?"  
  
"Isn't it obvious, because I can. And now, for why I came here. It seems that you are taking just too long to die, so I came to speed things up a little bit. I do hope it hurts; it just wouldn't be fun if you went totally numb. After all, your screams do sound so nice."  
  
And with that she called her weapon into her hands, its wicked, G- shaped blade glinting at the end of a five-foot shaft. She loved her glaive ever so much; it was truly the perfect weapon for her, elegant and deadly. And shoved the business end of the pole arm into her 'mothers' side, aiming upwards to pierce the left lung. The younger woman smiled sadistically at the gasping screams of the older, feeling a swell of pride at the amount of pain she could inspire in her mother and still keep her aware.  
  
"."  
  
"What was that? Was that a prayer? Don't you get it? Your god cannot help you here! Why do you even tr."  
  
She looked down towards the source of the stabbing pain in her chest. And saw that she was right on the money, so to speak, her mother's hand was pressed against her chest, holding a single dagger with the symbol of Pluto. It was this dagger piercing her black heart that caused her pain. She looked up with shocked filled eyes at the elder woman's face, a face that wore a serene smile despite the pain she had to be in.  
  
"Don't worry Hotaru, there is redemption for everyone, even you. Rest in peace. Ho.ta.ru.ch.an." And with those final words, forced out through the blood she was drowning in, Setsuna died.  
  
Hotaru could feel her life draining from the vicious chest wound and staggered to try and get help, surely her mistress wouldn't let her die, she was death, she was destruction, and she was dying. She managed to get about halfway to the exit, distantly cursing herself for choosing this place, before the blood-loss became too much for her body and she fell to the ground. Has she lay in a growing pool of her own blood she was filled with a useless rage, not at the fact that she was dying, but at the fact that it was her weakling of a mother that struck her down, that she died helpless and laying down rather than going down with all her foes in a blaze of destruction. And so, Hotaru left this world, not with a bang, but with a soft whimper.  
  
AN: This is a single piece of a much longer fanfiction that is currently under construction. It may not make much sense but it paints a pretty wicked picture, no? By the way, please review, reviews are an authors lifeblood. 


End file.
